Promises and Madness
by secretshipper
Summary: Everyone spoke of James and Lily Potter, and their bravery on the night of October 31th, 1981, but here is the horrifying aftermath that followed the next night. The terrible story of the Longbottoms, on November 1st, 1981.


_The wizarding world rejoiced on October 31st, 1981, when the first rumours of the Dark Lord being vanquished began to spread. Many people believed that he was gone for good, and many others desperately wanted to believe that no matter what their hearts told them. Some saw it as a new beginning, to pick up their lives from before the war, and some saw it as a chance to clean their slate, to start afresh._

_Frank Longbottom knew better. His world fragmented as soon as that silver speck appeared in his house; slowly forming into the phoenix patronus which spoke with Dumbledore's voice._

_"James and Lily are dead, their son lives. The dark lord has fallen." _

_The silence fell around them, booming, loud and clear. Frank knew better. This was just the beginning. This was the end. He knew about the prophecy, and he knew who knew about the prophecy. They would be next. Were he to survive, his life would still for evermore be tainted with the loss of James and Lily. Of orphaning a baby, younger than his son. It could have been them… And they would be next. _

He turns to his wife beside him, holding his son. Her eyes are shining with tears in the moonlight, but they do not fall. They look at each other helplessly, horrified, for several moments, til she breaks away to glance at their sleeping child, the tears finally falling. Frank can not stand it a moment longer. He gets out of bed, trying desperately to not listen to Alice's sobs. The wards around their house held strong, but he goes through the motions they have practised a hundred times over. Spells and enchantments criss cross in fine undulations around their house. The road outside is bathed in moonlight, but lies eerily still. They will be coming.

He returns to their bed, crouching in front of Alice, and holds her shoulders. He feels like a hollow shell of a man, flaking into patches and dust like old paint on a damp wall.

"Alice," he says, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible, "we need to be strong. We have to go ahead with the plan, love. Alice, look at me, darling, look at me."

She raises her head, to meet his eyes. A few flakes of himself peel away, he feels exposed, raw and in pain. But he needs to know she understands. He needs to know that she'll follow through with their plan, that should…that when they come, she'll run. She'll take Neville and get the hell out of there. He'll stay. He'll fight for as long as he can.

"No." It's quieter than a whisper, more stubborn than a mountain, and it cuts into Frank. He sighs, and cups her face with his hands, memorising the feel of her skin.

'Yes, you will, love," he reiterates, as calmly as he can, though it doesn't sound so clear as his voice breaks. "You will, for Neville. I'll hold them off. I promise, I'll fight as hard and as long as I can. You just need to get out of here. The Order will come, it'll take five minutes, if that. You just get out of here, and I'll meet you at my parents house tomorrow once its over."

There is a crack, like a whip outside. They are here. Alice cries harder, grabbing Franks hand. He feels like screaming, like tearing his hair, his skin, his mind, but he kisses her instead. Saying a thousand 'I love you's that will never be enough, and takes one last, long look at her.

Grabbing his wand, he runs from the room, sealing her within, placing more enchantments and spells, praying to Gods he doesn't believe in to protect them. Let them live, he chants in his head, let them live, please god, please, let them live.

Shadows loom outside his front door, fewer than he thought would come. It gives him a small flicker of hope that he refuses to acknowledge. _Let them live, let them live, let them live._

He fights valiantly, he fights hard, but there are four of them. And only one of him. There is only so much he can focus on when so much of what he can think and hope for is only his beloved family only two rooms away.

The first cruciatus curse seeps through him as his shield charm weakens, then falters. Bellatrix sees her opportunity and strikes again. Several curses hit him, and the pain rips through him. It is like fire, and ice and rage and neverending. It's as though all his nerve endings are exposed. They burn. They ache. From the depths of his heart, they rage. Screaming give him no realise. The edges of his mind crack. Times loses meaning. Had it been an hour or a minute…he cannot fathom it.

Another curse hits, and the pain intensifies in ways he did not know it could. The subtle, complex pathways of his mind break, disappear like wisps of smoke. White, hot knives cut into him. He wishes he could bleed, that he could die, any thing to release him from this all consuming torture but his body fights to live and he blackouts.

A loud boom brings him to his senses. The boom. It would be Alice, following their plan. She's out, she's free…Let them live. Let him live. A last reserve of power surges through him as he tries to pull his mind together. Through the pain, his sight returns briefly, but another cruse pounds into his flesh; the thousand knives sear into him, boring into his flesh.

She's safe, she's safe…let…them…live…let…them…live… The smallest flicker of hope flits through him as his mind fractures, shattering beyond repair, and the world loses meaning.

_Then he hears her begin to scream. _


End file.
